


Red of Tooth and Claw

by Corvin



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Catboy!John, Knotting, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Mpreg, Nightwing!John, Self-Lubrication, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvin/pseuds/Corvin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John went into hiding because of his omega status, then emerged as Nightwing to protect others like him. He was accustomed to being alone, but no man is an island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!! This work contains non-graphic noncon, violence, and death.

John started hiding his tail and binding his ears down when he was very young after his father told him the real reason his mother wasn’t coming home. Omegas were rare, but omegas like her, like John, were scarce even in myths. In the history of mankind there was no shortage of mutations to be found, but they– a nameless group of feline omegas were the stuff of legends and fairy tales. There were depictions of them all over the world, dating as far back as ancient Egypt, where they’d been exalted as children of Bastet.

 

That was where the end of goodwill for the felines. Hunted, enslaved, forcibly mated and then horribly abused, their small numbers dwindled until they were just a memory.

 

Eventually, as man grew more ‘civilized’ laws were passed to protect the remaining _regular_ omegas. They were promoted from non-humans to second class citizens. Omegas were documented at puberty, put into a database and marked so that everyone would know what they were. Under these laws the population of the omegas feebly improved (just over three percent of the population), but remained subjugated under the alphas and betas.

 

John’s mother was born at home and undocumented. From what he knew, as soon as his grandparents saw her ears and tail, they moved out to the country and hid her away. No one else knew until she met his father.

 

She had John at home in the bathtub on the off chance she was like him. When John got older, he realized just how much of a favor it truly was.

 

When he was seven years old, barely over a year after his mother died, there was an omega woman lived next door to him and his father. She was younger, fairly plain but with a glow that always drew John’s eyes to her. One night, when his father was out, John heard someone pounding on her door.

 

At first he ignored it. She had many visitors, most of them she turned away.

 

But then the knocking grew more violent. He listened, growing scared and hoping whoever it was would just give up. Then there was a loud crash and the sounds of a scuffle.

 

John ran to the door and peeked out into the hall. Immediately a sharp, sweet scent stung his nose causing his tail, hidden down his pant leg, to bristle. He was still unfamiliar with the notion, but he knew, she was in heat.

 

Three men had broken down her door. They were dragging her back into her apartment as she was screaming, clawing at the floor, makeup streaked down her face.

 

John watched them in horrified fascination. The way her screams slowly turned to panting sighs and her fighting limbs fell limp.

 

Then he shook himself out of it, slowly closed the door and ran to the phone. He sobbed to the 911 operator that men were attacking his neighbor.

 

Unfortunately he lived in the Narrows of Gotham. The police took an hour to show up, and when they did they scolded the woman for not going to a center if she was going into heat. The little boy who called them was completely forgotten.   
  
It was one incident of many. Rape after rape occurred because the one and only heat center that accommodated omegas was overcrowded and underfunded, and the suppressants were still experimental and dangerous. It was only a matter of time before something happened.   
  
It was just a low murmur at first from hundred or so omegas that lived in Gotham; whispers of injustice, anger and fear. There were a few rallies that people openly mocked, but it resulted in the odd sympathetic beta here and there.   
  
They demanded equality to the other genders. To be allowed walk home without a seventy percent chance of being accosted, and subsequently blamed for it. To be allowed the intrinsic human dignities that alphas and betas had from their first moment of life.   
  
He was young and in hiding when it happened, so John never knew who threw the first brick at the omega protesters. All he knew what that his father couldn't go to work for a week because of the riots. He caught snippets from the News.  _Alpha extremists, bodies littering the streets, complete and utter anarchy._  The world had gone to Hell outside and all John could do was pray that it never came to his doorstep.   
  
John was sixteen when Bruce Wayne disappeared. The Wayne Foundation had been the only thing keeping most of the omega programs on their last leg. As soon as Bruce Wayne was gone the funding was cut and the one and only center, the only beacon of hope for the young, unbonded and/or frightened omegas, was closed.   
  
John was seventeen when he was picking through a dumpster in the late evening. But then a group of four betas dragged a boy into the alley. John had been forced to hide for over an hour while they raped a brutalized a child who couldn’t be older than twelve.

 

That same night, he painted a blue symbol on a black hoodie he stole from a clothes line, and took to the rooftops. 

 

 

The night was already gutted with artificial lights from neon signs, flickering street lamps and polluting vehicles crammed bumper to bumper on the roads, even late on a Tuesday night. The nightlife was already loud, cursing and spitting on any person daring to leave their homes after sundown. The cry of one more victim was simply lost in it all.   
  
A skinny figure flew over the rooftops, rapidly melting in and out of the shadows without making a sound. All of a sudden it halted, nose twitching. It cocked its head to the side and completely froze until another scream cut through the noises of the city.   
  
The figure was off again.   
  
The rooftop ended and he leapt without hesitation. He dropped an extra ten feet onto a shorter building, crouching, rolling, and running again. One more scream, one more jump, and he was sliding down a fire escape and dropping silently into a dark alley.  
  
Brawling had never been his strong point, so he used whatever weapon was on hand; a crowbar, a tire iron, once even a garbage can lid. With the element of surprise and a blunt (preferably metal) object, it was fairly easy to beat someone unconscious.   
  
A bulky, sweaty figure pinned had a small boy against the side of the building. He was snarling under his breath and fumbling with his belt buckle.   
  
The boy threw his head back to scream again, when his eyes locked onto the creeping figure. He gasped out, “Nightwing,” just before Nightwing swung a broken pipe down on the man’s head. He crumpled with a shocked gurgle.   
  
Nightwing hit him a few more times, just to be sure, then kicked him in the ribs just to be vicious.   
  
The small beta boy was half way collapsed against the wall, staring at the unabashed violence. Nightwing recognized him from the boys’ home run by Father Riley. He was too young to be in this part of town. He’d probably gone out to find work and gotten in over his head. Nightwing couldn’t count how many orphans he’d seen in this boy’s exact place. No employer wanted them and no dealer would trust them with drugs. They were only good for selling their bodies and if they resisted, well, that just meant it was a 'free ride' so to speak.   
  
But Nightwing didn't pause to offer pity. He simply leaned in close and whispered, “Run.”   
  
The child didn’t need any further prompting.  
  
Nightwing followed him from the rooftops until he was back at the orphanage. The door hadn’t even shut completely before Nightwing heard his name spoken with all the reverence children deigned to give him. He shook his head, the poor things thought he was some sort of hero.  
  
He patrolled a few more hours. The cold bit at his bony wrists that showed every now and then between his gloves and sleeves, but he was used to the feeling. He ignored a rich man being mugged, a car being stolen, etc. Things like that weren’t his MO. He paused only when he noticed a shapely figure slinking out of a penthouse window.   
  
“I don’t know why you bother sneaking around.” He smirked when she swore. “You’re leaving DNA everywhere.” They’d had this conversation many times, but she still let her hair fly free.   
  
“Bird boy,” she purred, swinging her legs up over the ledge and settling next to him. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”   
  
“Cat girl,” he nodded, “that’s what happens when you get sloppy.” He tapped the edge of the beanie that just barely showed under his hood. “See that’s why I never get caught and you’ve been in jail, what, three times this year?”   
  
She snorted, “Love the ski goggles too.”   
  
“Well, we can’t all rock sequin masks.” He looked down at her empty hands, “no haul tonight?”   
  
“Big things come in small packages, tiny,” she leaned in and Nightwing jerked back. “Sorry,” she took three steps back, hands raised, “force of habit.” The first time they met, Selina tried to kiss him on the cheek. He’d thrown her off the roof on impulse.   
  
Nightwing stepped onto the ledge, dancing carelessly along it, eyes scoping out the route he’d take. She’d try to follow him, she always did. It irked her to no end that he could lose her easily in her own back yard. It irked her more when he pointed out that it was because she did gymnastics in five inch heels and he did parkour in sneakers. “Until next time?”   
  
“Night-night, birdy.” She smiled at him and he jumped.   
  
He flitted through the shrinking, always feeble darkness of the city. He knew the exact moment he was out of her sight, and he dropped down to a manhole. Years ago he’d made a nest, and to that very day it was his only safe haven in the world.   
  
Deep down, where no one bothered going, where even the sounds of the city were muted, Nightwing crawled. He found his little space, with his small collection of belongings and he began to strip. No more concealing goggles, no more blood spattered sweatshirt. Just before he hit his makeshift bed, he was John again.

 

John curled into a fetal position and breathed a single, shuddering sigh before tears began streaming down his face.  The ever-present ball of rage in his stomach clashed with guilt for maiming another human being. Then he replayed the scene from earlier in his mind. Pictured the stench of fear and lust filling up the ally so thick that he wanted to gag, and the adrenaline that raced through his veins when he took action. He saved the image of the boy’s face for last. The picture of innocence rescued from evil.

 

Little by little John’s muscles relaxed, and his tears subsided. He stared up at the metal ceiling above him, nightly ritual complete, feeling absolved. He wasn’t like the rest of them; he did what he did for a reason.  

 

John had only been twelve when he found his father's body. After having survived the Omega Riots, as they'd been called in the aftermath, John Sr was mugged on his way home from the liquor store. Stabbed twice in the stomach and left to bleed out, but not before they'd had a little fun with him. He was a beta, but a handsome one, and the city was filled with animals.   
  
He'd been so late that John sneaked out, only to find him in an ally and catch his dying word.  _Hide_.   
  
The wrathful hate he felt in that moment took up permanent residence in his heart. But then his mind went to work. His father was dead, there was no one left to take care of him. He knew he couldn’t go to a boys’ home or a foster home. He would be identified as an omega, and if his ears and tail were discovered there was no telling what he’d be subjected to, but John’s young mind conjured horrors that had him trembling.   
  
So he returned home, packed a few necessities in a plastic bag, and then in the dead of night, he disappeared into the sewers and stayed there ever since. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SOOOO much Quinnster for fixing my shenanigans!

Nightwing was one of the first people to meet _The Batman_.

 

Nightwing knew of a dirty (in many senses of the word) cop who liked to bully younger girls into dark places. He’d decided to follow him on a night when he looked particularly antsy; followed him all the way down to the docks.

 

He crawled silently, always keeping the car in his periphery. There were several armed men, and someone more important than Nightwing’s guy in the backseat. He stopped when someone approached the car and began talking through the back window.

 

They were there for a drop-off, something about drugs, but not Nightwing’s problem. He was just about to cut his losses for the night and leave, when someone let out a strangled yelp.

 

Nightwing’s senses went on high alert. He scrambled across the tops of the freights, to where several of the men he’d seen earlier were in a panic.

 

They split up, running in different directions. Nightwing picked one to follow, only to nearly be shot. The dark haired man seemingly spotted something else and turned his back to shoot at it. Nightwing was ready to pounce when the man screamed, “Where are you?!”

 

That was when he saw _him_. A dark figure in a suit that was far more impressive than Nightwing’s, dangling upside down from a grapping hook.

 

Nightwing stayed back in the shadows and watched the masked man as he dropped into the middle of the group. It seemed stupid at first, scared as they might be, they were still trigger happy criminals that outnumbered him six to one—

 

His thoughts cut short when the flurry of activity ended. He may have gaped a little. All the remaining gunmen were on the ground, unconscious, and the masked man was already moving back towards the street.

 

It was…incredible. Abso-fucking-lutely incredible.

 

He could feel himself grinning like an idiot at the thought of another person like him in the city. Someone who couldn’t help in a traditional way but didn’t let that stop them. Of course Nightwing had no idea if he was trustworthy, but still, Selina had been in jail for a week already and John was starting to miss the conversation. He followed, thinking to introduce himself, only to find an empty parking lot and a smashed up car. 

 

Nightwing’s shoulders slumped a little.

 

“I’m not sure what to think of a vigilante who only helps a certain group of people.”

 

Nightwing tensed up, but managed to refrain from turning and bearing his teeth. “I’m not a vigilante,” he said finally. “They try to work with the law. I just beat the shit out of people who deserve it.” He looked over his shoulder, getting a good look for the first time. The man was covered head to toe, except for his mouth and eyes. Nightwing paused on the eyes, taking in the familiar simmering rage and something clicked.

 

He cocked an unseen eyebrow and asked, “So what are you supposed to be?”

 

“I’m Batman,” he growled. “I’ve heard of you though. Several of the people you’ve attacked have died in the hospital.”

 

Nightwing shrugged again, this time with genuine carelessness. “Like I said, not a vigilante.”

 

Batman nodded minutely. “But you care about the people you help.” He didn’t ask, so Nightwing didn’t answer.

 

Of course he cared, would anyone who didn’t do what he did every night?

 

Nightwing stepped to the side so that his back wasn’t to the car. Optimistic as he was, he never liked being boxed in. “So what about you? I’m assuming you’re new because I’ve been patrolling this city for a long time and,” he paused to give a cursory glance over the man’s ensemble emphatically. “Well you’re not someone I’d miss.”

 

Batman smirked and even though John couldn’t see most of his face, the expression was almost self-deprecating. “I’m from here,” he said, “but I’ve been gone for a while.”

 

“Right.”

 

“But I understand what you’re doing. I want to help this city too.” Batman offered his hand to shake. “I hope we can be allies from now on.”

 

Nightwing stared at the hand and then lifted his nose and sniffed lightly. Rubber, metal, plastic, damp stones, _bats_ , but underneath it all: Alpha. Nightwing covered himself head to toe in deodorizers every night before he went out to cover his omega smell. He hated being near Alphas because their very presence, spicy in scent and domineering in demeanor, made him feel completely exposed. Nightwing hated feeling vulnerable, and John hated it even more.

 

An ally came with pros and cons, but Nightwing had the advantage that Batman didn’t. For the moment, he was willing to take a chance.   

 

“I’m not, nor will I ever be your sidekick or something,” he spat, “but yeah, sure. If you ever need help you can usually find me in the Narrows.”

 

Batman lowered his hand and nodded again. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “I’ll be in touch soon.”

 

Nightwing rolled his eyes and looked at the sky, “No problem, just don’t ever…” He looked back and Batman was already gone. “Try to follow me…Okay.”

 

-.-.-.-

 

Nightwing wiped his goggles off for the umpteenth time that night. It had started raining earlier in the day and turned from a drizzle to a downpour by the time the sun went down. He was crouched on a roof, looking down at wet laundry lines crisscrossing the alleys.

 

Wet laundry was depressing enough, but the rain in Gotham was as filthy as the air; the clothes would have to be washed all over again. He rubbed his hands over his arms in an attempt to warm them. His sweatshirt was bulky on his form and a heavy material; it was a pain in the ass to wash unless he felt brave enough to go to a laundromat. Which he never did.

 

He stiffened when he saw something out of place in his periphery. He relaxed only slightly when it came further into the light. “I heard you put away the city’s most powerful crime boss.” He said, “not bad for your first week.”

 

“He’s just one part of the problem though.” Batman joined him, settling a surprisingly respectful five feet away. “I’m actually here to ask for your help on another part.”

 

Nightwing groaned, “I figured. Look, I have a niche, okay?”  

 

“No,” Batman cut him off before he could tirade. “I just need some back up. There’s an apartment near here, where Falcone’s men are taking drug shipments. I need to know what makes it so special, but I’d rather not go in alone.”

 

Nightwing pursed his lips, it didn’t seem like a huge risk, and he’d just be sitting there freezing his ass off otherwise. “Alright, fine,” he grumbled, “but this isn’t going to be a regular thing.”

 

“Sure.”

 

It turned out, ‘near here’ meant ‘also in the Narrows’. Nightwing followed Batman over ten blocks of buildings before Batman abruptly dropped between them and clung to a fire escape.

 

Nightwing knelt on the ledge and watched him pull a gadget off his belt. Of course he had a little utility belt with a ton of toys. Nightwing smirked to himself, everything about Batman was ridiculous, from the over the top suit (which was probably a lot more protective than Nightwing’s sweatshirt) to the growly tone he used to disguise his voice. Nightwing preferred to just whisper when he did bother talking.

 

The door nearest Batman opened and Nightwing ducked down out of sight. He heard a small boy talking for a moment, and then he saw Batman pulling himself inside of an apartment.

 

Nightwing peeked over to make sure the child was gone. He wiped off his goggles and prepared to jump but then he spotted a car pull up in the alley.

 

A small, slender man got out first. Nightwing’s hackles rose immediately and he shrank back. It had been a good hunch because the men who followed him were holding guns and gas cans.

 

“Oh shit,” he muttered, “Should probably invest in walkie-talkies or something.” There were only four of them, and Batman would probably hear them coming. Maybe he should just hang back in case—

 

His second ears tried to perk up under his beanie and hood. He heard the sound of glass breaking and when he listened closely he heard a scuffle. Great, his help wasn’t needed after all. Nightwing could have been out looking for the situations he normally handled. If he found out that some omega had been dragged out of sight and taken advantage of because Batman wanted company, there would be Hell to pay.

 

Just then Batman stumbled out of the apartment, clearly out of sorts and very much on fire.

 

Nightwing stared in shock until Batman fell two stories and into a heap. “Oh my God,” Nightwing slid down the fire escape, just in time to stop Batman from stumbling out onto the street. He hesitated before touching the suit. It was hot, but the rain put out the fire before Batman had hit the ground.

 

Batman flailed against him, his gauntlets almost taking a chunk out of Nightwing’s face. Nightwing shoved him away. “Calm down, calm _down_! What the Hell is wrong with you?”

 

“P-poison,” Batman gasped. “It was Crane.”

 

The name meant nothing to Nightwing. So he said, “Will it wear off?” Batman didn’t respond. “Fine, uh,” Nightwing’s hands hovered until Batman flinched away from them. “I’ll take you somewhere safe!”

 

“I can…make it…” Batman ran his hands around his belt, “Hook…grappling…” His hands were trembling too much to grasp anything, and it struck Nightwing that he looked terrified.

 

“I’ll take you home,” Nightwing murmured, hunching his shoulders and trying to appear smaller and nonthreatening.

 

“No.” Batman started sliding towards the ground, his eyes becoming more and more unfocused.

 

Nightwing watched him, and then sighed forlornly. He was going to have to steal a car. “Don’t worry, Bruce,” he murmured, “I’ll get you home.”

 

-.-.-.-

 

Wayne Manor was as ostentatious and ridiculous up close as it was from down with the common folk. The only thing it was missing was some actual security, like a guard or a dog, or at the very least, a fence. But no, Nightwing drove his stolen station wagon right up to the front door without encountering anyone.

 

Batman writhed in the backseat, muttering to himself and sweating off all of his deodorant. Most people wore special deodorants to dilute their scents for polite company. Nightwing had been careful to obtain only the brands that promised to cover him completely. Not that it did any good if it washed up with a little rain and sweat.

 

The car quickly filled up with his unnerving Alpha scent. Nightwing had the fan on at full blast but it could only do so much for a short time, and he didn’t dare crack a window during the drive, lest someone catch a whiff and take note of them.

 

He was, after all, a young man in ski goggles driving at high speeds with someone lying in the back of the car. Not the most innocent he’d ever looked. He’d just barely pulled to a stop when the front door opened.

 

An older man who looked to be pushing his mid-sixties, stepped out of the house and motioned for Nightwing to roll down the window.

 

Nightwing never had a grandfather, but he always had a mental image of what one would be like in the back of his mind. This man was almost nothing like it, but there was an unimposing, paternal air about him that Nightwing appreciated. He smelled like a beta, but only faintly under aftershave and pipe tobacco.

 

The man came close enough to see into the back seat and his mouth dropped open. His veneer of calm trembled for just a moment before he visibly reigned himself in and looked at Nightwing. “Can you help me get him upstairs?”

 

Nightwing was skinny under his sweatshirt, but he was young and had enough muscle to haul himself around the city nearly every night. That said it was thoroughly embarrassing that Alfred, as he’d introduced himself, seemed to be doing most of the lifting up the stairs.

 

“So,” he said after struggling to drag Batman’s two hundred plus pounds of muscle and rubber halfway up the stairs. At some point between the car and the door he’d gone deadweight, wide eyed, and staring at nothing. “Spent all his elevator money on bat paraphernalia?”

 

Alfred shoulders shook a little. “He doesn’t usually come home in this condition.”

 

Nightwing was more worried about Alfred, but he thought better of saying it and just focused on moving Batman.

 

Every now and then Batman jerked. Nightwing nearly dropped him several times, but Alfred held on tight, murmuring and shushing against the cowl.

 

They finally made it to what Nightwing assumed was the master bedroom and heaved Batman onto the bed. He groaned, looking towards the ceiling following the jerky movements of something unseen.  

 

Nightwing didn’t realize that Alfred had been holding his breath until Batman stilled. He breathed out in a low, shaky voice, “Thank you.”

 

Batman’s eyes rolled back into his head, but his breathing remained rapid. Nightwing stared at him, shifting from foot to foot, trying to think of a response.

 

“I suppose it was just a good thing I was there.”

 

Alfred nodded, and then moved to the other side of the bed. He cautiously touched Batman’s arm, then pulled off the gauntlet when he received no response. 

 

Nightwing was torn between leaving the room and wanting to stay in case Batman woke up and flipped out again. In the end Alfred decided for him by asking him to get Batman’s boots.

 

It was strange, looking at him up close. Without the suit he was just Bruce Wayne, a bruised, unconscious man with an elderly caretaker. His alpha scent was so heady and imposing that Nightwing had his sleeve pressed over his mouth and nose.

 

He watched Alfred pull the blanket over Bruce’s naked form before he decided it was safe to go. But before he went, he had to ask, “Why didn’t you freak out?”

 

Alfred looked up at him questioningly.

 

“When I showed up with him, I mean. You didn’t,” he paused trying to think of a different word. And couldn’t. “Freak out.” 

 

“You are Nightwing,” Alfred smiled, “I thought it was only a matter of time until you or Master Bruce had to save each other from something. Although I was very surprised that you knew who he was.”

 

Nightwing snorted, “Bruce Wayne and the Batman showing up within a couple weeks of each other isn’t exactly subtle.”

 

“He has more trouble with subtlety than he’d like to think.” Alfred stared down at Bruce with so much fondness and love that Nightwing flinched and looked down.

 

“I’m, uh, I’ll just go then,” he said. “He’ll be okay, right?”

 

“I’ll take care of him.”

 

Nightwing’s chest tightened, but he swallowed down the feeling and managed a curt nod. “Good.”

 

He dropped the car off a few blocks from where he found it. By then the rain had stopped, but he was tired, and he couldn’t stop thinking of the tender care of Alfred.

 

That night, when John curled up in his bed and sobbed quietly, he pretended that he had someone that loved him that much. 

 

-.-.-.-

 

 

He didn’t hear from Batman until a few days later.

 

His stomach was gurgling, loud and obnoxious and he was glaring at it, waiting for it to stop before he could keep patrolling. He heard Batman approaching, but didn’t look at him. “Feeling better?” He asked, staring down at the streets below.

 

“In a manner of speaking. When was the last time you ate?”

 

“Fuck off,” Nightwing snapped. He heard a minute intake of breath and whiffed a spike of testosterone. He rolled his eyes, Alphas were so predictable. “Shut up, Bruce,” he said, cutting Batman off before he could speak.

 

It didn’t garner a reaction, but then again he supposed Alfred made it a top priority to tell Bruce that Nightwing knew his secret identity. “What do you want?”

 

“Here.” Batman approached him (almost) soundlessly and held out a glass tube.

 

“What is it?” Nightwing eyed it suspiciously.

 

“It’s an antidote to what got me. Crane is weaponizing a hallucinogen and I don’t know what he’s planning yet, but this,” he shook the tube. “This will keep it from affecting you.”

 

He still had no idea who Crane was but on the off chance they ever crossed paths, he supposed it might be worth it to be prepared. He took it and shoved it into his pocket, “Thanks.”

 

Batman nodded and knelt next to him, a little closer than before, but Nightwing allowed it.

 

“You know who I am,” Batman dropped the growl and spoke in a normal voice.

 

Nightwing shrugged.

 

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Bruce continued, “I don’t know who you are. I have one of the most advanced computer systems in the world and I couldn’t find your secret identity. Why is that?”   

 

Bile rushed to the back of Nightwing’s throat and the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Bruce was trying to find him, trying to find _John_. He bit back the agony of the betrayal and scolded himself for even getting close enough to feel that much.

 

He took a deep breath and nonchalantly said, “I don’t have a secret identity to find.”

 

He didn’t wait for a response. He jumped and practically flew through the city until he was positive Batman was gone.

 

He should have known Batman would try to search for him. Selina always did, but she was easy to not care about because she was harmless. She’d never be able to catch him, because as much as she liked to emulate cats, Nightwing had the actual advantages of one.

 

He was faster and lighter on his feet, with more situational awareness than she could ever hope for. But Batman was different. Something about his movements showed training, honing.

 

Nightwing didn’t know if he’d be able to outrun Batman if it came down to a true chase.

 

That night, he found an alpha with dark hair and a plastic smile following a young woman to her car, and he felt particular relish beating the shit out of him.

 

-.-.-.-

 

John was half asleep when he felt his living space start to rumble. He sat up abruptly and listened carefully. Just under the shaking metal and cement, he heard the sound of people screaming and guns going off.

 

He pulled on his sweatshirt, but an explosion had him slipping out of his space before he pulled on his beanie. He hadn’t washed off any of his deodorizers, and he was only going to take a peek so he would be okay as long as he was careful.

 

Above ground was chaos. Nightwing caught a strange scent in the air before the effects started. He fell back into the sewer, panting against the shapes forming before his eyes.

 

He began to painstakingly drag himself back to his home. He wanted to curl up in his bed and wait for his father to hear him crying.

 

Except his father wouldn’t hear him, he was dead. He’d been torn apart by men who would do that and worse if they found John. He could practically see them in the shadows, waiting for his guard to go down. He could feel their hands starting to grope him and rip at his clothes.

 

Nightwing moaned, his eyesight was going blurry, but he knew this part of the sewer. This was his domain.

 

He forced his limbs to keep moving. Was this what Batman felt all those nights ago?

 

The thought struck him as he climbed into his space. Batman had given him something. The antidote would stop the effects.

 

John clung to that thought as he collapsed onto the floor. His pulse was too fast, even for him. He knew where the antidote was, but he couldn’t picture it. There was too much in his head, too many horrors to relive.

 

He fumbled along his mattress, digging up into the hole he’d cut to keep his precious things. His fingers closed around glass and he pulled it out.

 

The relief that the concoction in his bloodstream gave almost had him collapsing again.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. If one sniff did that to him, what was a whole fog going to do to Gotham?

 

The next time he breathed the air, he could smell blood, and gun powder, but it only had the usual effect of nausea. Nothing he couldn’t handle for a few hours.

 

Nightwing started to climb onto a roof when a man rode by on a horse, screaming about his face.

 

Nightwing was shocked into stillness only for a moment, wondering if the hallucinations were going to persist. Then he gave chase.

 

The man fell off when the horse reared up at a car and turned to run back past Nightwing.

 

He ran to where the man was trying to stand up and gut-punched him as hard as he could. He pulled the mask off and the smell of omega slapped him in the face.

 

Nightwing gaped, the man stared back at him with manic blue eyes. “You—”

 

“Nightwing!” The man laughed uproariously. “You’re an omega, that’s too precious.”

 

He hadn’t realized that his hood had fallen back, exposing his cat ears. Fuck, how could he have not realized that? He scrambled to try and pull it back on, but the man shook his head.

 

“Don’t bother, I won’t unsee them.” He grinned, even with the tazer burns on his face. “Does the Bat-Man know what you are?”

 

“Shut up,” Nightwing snarled, pulling the hood as far forward as it would go.

 

“He’s an Alpha, isn’t he? I caught a whiff of him once, very virile I bet.”

 

Nightwing punched him in the face, but he just laughed again. “If I weren’t so career oriented, I might even be jealous. I’m a doctor by the way, Dr. Crane.”

 

He wanted to attack again but Crane caught his gaze, hypnotic in its amused madness. “I couldn’t be a doctor if he, or any other alpha or beta mated me, you see. They never let us do anything. He wouldn’t let you do what you do if he had any idea what you are.”

 

Definitely not. “That’s not true!”

 

Crane laughed at him again and held up his hands in surrender. “So what are you going to do with me? I thought rapists were more your division.”

 

“You think I won’t take you down?” Nightwing demanded.

 

“I think you have a pattern of behavior,” Crane smiled, “that suggests a history of—”

 

Nightwing punched him in the face again. He wished he had the power in just his arms to knock Crane unconscious, but the blood gushing from Crane’s nose would have to do.

 

“I won’t tell,” the blood turned Crane’s teeth orange. “Because I know what it’s like.” There was a brief lucidity in his expression that stabbed clear through to John. But Nightwing was done with trying to make friends.

 

He drew his fist back again, only to be startled when Crane beat him to it. And unlike John, Crane probably grew up eating three meals a day and getting plenty of sun. His punch had enough power to knock Nightwing back, so that Crane could wiggle free.

 

Nightwing cursed the fog, and whatever the fuck was in the mix Batman gave him because it was dulling his reflexes. He tried to run after Crane, but the doctor had disappeared.

 

There was yelling coming from down the street, people were starting to move in Nightwing’s direction. He climbed up a fire escape and started running. He had to find Crane, had to make sure, his train of thought stopped there when he saw Batman’s ‘tank’ zoom past.

 

Where the Hell was he going?

 

After one last glance at the streets below, he switched directions and followed the tank.

 

It was a clusterfuck after that. Trying to follow a speeding vehicle, only to get distracted by people trying to rip each other apart. Nightwing stopped to knock them all unconscious and he didn’t even have to look to know he’d lost the tank.

 

He spent nearly an hour picking children up off the street and hiding them before it all just stopped.

 

Probably something to do with the antidote. Nightwing sat on top of a five story brown stone and sighed heavily. It was sort of stressful to not be in the loop. Not that he wanted to be in the loop. He had his own loop.

 

The wind blowing softly against his back carried the scent of an Alpha. He scowled, “Sorry your house got burned down.”

 

Silence.

 

He turned around to see Batman glaring at him. Nightwing tilted his head to the side, “Too soon?” Not that he cared. Bruce Wayne could build afford to build himself a new mansion every time his old one got dirty.

 

“I could have used your help.”

 

Nightwing bristled at the accusation in the tone. “I was a little busy,” he growled, “you know, what with the Narrows going batshit.” Pun vehemently intended.

 

“Ra’s Al-Ghul is dead.”

 

Who?

“Why the fuck do you keep saying names like I know who the fuck these people are?” The shout erupted out of Nightwing before he could stop it, and it opened the floodgates. “Stop acting like I owe you or anything in the city jack-shit! I do what I do and it’s all I can do. You can spread yourself too thin and call yourself a hero if you want, but don’t you dare think for one fucking second that it means I have to. Not everyone has a mansion to crawl back to at the end of the night!”

 

God it felt good to…

 

Batman was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open. Nightwing realized he could feel the wind on his back again. His beanie normally helped keep his scent covered, but he hadn’t worn it. A little had crept out and was being blown directly to Batman’s nose.

 

“You,” Bruce blinked several times, disbelief falling into stern chagrin. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

 

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Nightwing roared. He wanted to attack, but he was as tired as he was enraged. Too many people were finding out about him. He just wanted to go back to his safe place. So he fell off the roof and almost smirked at Batman’s surprised cry.

 

Batman hadn’t cared that much before.

 

Fuck, he hated Alphas.

  

He ducked and dodged into every shadow and around every corner he could find. He was sure Batman hadn’t even tried to follow him off that building, but he didn’t trust his own instincts in that moment. Two people knew Nightwing was an omega, and it was two too many.

 

The dark night started to turn gray as the sun began to rise. Nightwing finally dropped into the sewers and went home. He lay on the bed, naked but wrapped in his threadbare blanket.

 

John didn’t cry. He stared at the far wall, trying not to think, when all at once the distraction of Batman faded and the events of the night came to the front of his mind. He leaned over the mattress and vomited on the ground.

 

When John was thirteen he’d snuck out of the sewer and went to a convenience store to get a little food. He didn’t have very much money, and he was in a hurry, so he walked briskly to their small canned section. He grabbed the first two cans he saw that were on sale and went to the front counter, clutching one in each hand.

 

He’d just set them down when two men approached from behind. One shoved a gun in the cashier’s face, and the other shoved John against the counter.

 

“Damn you smell good,” he’d muttered in John’s ear, grinding hard against his small body. “You hit puberty yet?”

 

“What is he, ten?” The other had scoffed, pocketing the money that the resigned cashier had given him.

 

John didn’t know what Betas smelled like back then. He only had instincts. So when the man pressed against him reached around to run a handgun against the front of his pants, he twisted just enough to bite the gun arm.

 

“What the fuck!”

 

The grip loosened and John tore the gun away. He hadn’t been planning on using it, but one moment it was in his hands, the next both the burglars were on the floor. He’d shot one in the neck and the other in the stomach. Gun still clenched in his fist, John bolted back to the sewer, canned food still on the counter of the shop.

 

He learned to live without eating for long periods of time after that. And he never forgot the feeling of a man pressed up against him, ready to take and plunder just because John was an omega. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have noticed the liberties I took with the timeline. Or maybe you haven't, I didn't until Quinnster pointed them out. Either way, prepare for way more liberties to come.


	3. Chapter 3

It took two weeks for the Narrows situation to be sorted. Not fixed, but put into a functional order. Anything remotely resembling livable would take a lot longer. Business had been looted, families separated, and people had died.

 

John stayed in his space for most of it. Unwilling to face the outside world, even from behind a mask, well, ski goggles. There was no telling what Scarecrow would do with John’s secret. No telling what the whole of the criminal underbelly would do if they knew that Nightwing was a feline omega.

 

So he hid like a coward for nearly a month, until four days after his food supply ran out.

 

It wasn’t a smart move, waiting until he was almost deliriously hungry to go topside. But up he went, almost tripping over every unseen bit of debris on the roofs.

 

Getting food from stores was a little easier than normal because of all the damage that had been done. The poor areas couldn’t afford to fix their security systems, and he slipped in and out without a problem.

 

He opened a pull-tab can of peaches and scarfed it down in under a minute. It wasn’t much, but anymore and he’d definitely vomit.

 

As he sat, trying to keep the too sugary food down, he heard a familiar voice speaking somewhere down below on the streets. He tucked his plastic bag of canned food next to a vent and waited quietly. When he heard the voice again, he followed it on shaky legs.

 

Scarecrow was standing next to a white, windowless van, counting a handful of money while a man writhed on the ground at his feet.

 

Nightwing gingerly lowered down onto a fire escape; in sight, but out of reach. “Not sure what to make of this.”

 

The burlap mask jerked in his direction and the Scarecrow waved with two fingers. “Drug deal gone bad, I’m afraid,” He said carelessly.

 

Nightwing raised an unseen eyebrow, “You’re a drug dealer now?”

 

Scarecrow chuckled and pocketed the money. “I’m still outside your niche, aren’t I?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Nightwing never had any friends.

 

When he was little, when he still lived above ground, John would see children playing together on TV or outside. But he wasn’t allowed to even greet them, much less run out to join them. He spent his time with his father, and then with no one.

 

Selina had been a breath of fresh air, but she was someone to exchange words with in passing. She knew nothing about him except whom he would and wouldn’t attack. He didn’t keep up on pop culture, didn’t bother with anything in the news that didn’t have any effects on his cause, so their conversations were stuck on playful barbs more than anything.

 

“Did you know, in some ancient cultures, feline omegas were considered great warriors?”

 

The Scarecrow was slightly different. He wasn’t Nightwing’s friend, never would be.

 

“It’s because when most feline omegas were bonded, but separated from their mates, they had a tendency to go feral.”

 

Nightwing grinned toothily from his perch. “They don’t always need their mate taken for that to happen.”

 

“True,” Scarecrow nodded. “Your rage comes from a different loss. But it’s still fascinating isn’t it? Many people consider those times to be the very best for the omega gender, but we were still being exploited. Your kind were purposefully mated and then separated so you could be sent off to fight wars. Or, I’ll concede, you were being pampered because primitives thought you were a _cat goddess_.”

 

“Not me personally,” Nightwing quipped. He pressed a hand to his gurgling stomach and grimaced. “I have to go.”

 

Scarecrow nodded, and Nightwing went back to find his bag.

 

In the following year, Nightwing took to seeking the Scarecrow out every now and then. Their conversations were mostly one-sided, with Scarecrow rambling about anything and everything with a vocabulary that Nightwing, with his sixth grade education, could only partly understand.

 

“When are your gorillas due back?” Nightwing lounged on top of the, now familiar, white van. He found Scarecrow in a parking garage that particular night, alone and smoking a black cigarette.

 

“They’re keeping an eye out for my buyers. They’ll call before they return.”

 

Nightwing frowned and lifted his nose. Underneath the spicy smoke there was something wrong in the air, and Scarecrow wouldn’t pick up on it because of his mask. “You’ll probably be getting some company during the deal.” He said, standing up. He knew the scent fairly well because the morons tried to catch him from time to time.

 

“Is it him?”

 

“Unless he started carrying a gun and wearing hockey pads, I’d say no.” They didn’t say his name to each other.

 

“I’ll try to be quick then.” Scarecrow lifted his mask up and sniffed. “We’ll be in and out, provided I don’t get complaints.”

 

Nightwing smirked at the bitter tone. He had a few comments that he’d like to end on, but he’d rather not get pulled further into a conversation.

 

The bat-lings, as he’d taken to calling them, were making his job harder and harder the past couple months. They’d shown up in Batman costumes, trying to fight crime and in the process gotten in Nightwing’s way, and consequently on his bad side.

 

Seven times they’d tried to corner him. (Because apparently vigilantes were breaking the law and had to be taken into custody. Except their special snowflake Batman.) One more time and he was breaking someone’s arm.

 

Nightwing swung his legs over the short wall and jumped.

 

-.-.-.-

 

 

Nightwing perched on the ledge of the boys’ home, staring into the distance of the, for once, quiet night. Selina had wordlessly joined him a few minutes ago, but had seemed deep in thought. 

 

“Have you ever wished you could just disappear?” She muttered softly to herself. “Just pick up, start over, not have anyone bother you.”

 

He wished that as often as he allowed himself to wish for anything. “Not really,” he said.

 

Selina was fresh out of a six month stay at Black Gate. Her normally licentious attitude had waned into something a little quieter, sadder. She glanced over at him, “I guess you wouldn’t. But I got picked up this time while I was out getting milk. I can’t get a real job anywhere, and I can’t leave Gotham without violating parole. This whole system’s basically screwed me.”

 

Nightwing didn’t know what to say. He had a similar problem, with even less answers than her.

 

“I’m going home for tonight,” Selina murmured. “I’ll see you later.”

 

“Bye.” Nightwing watched until she disappeared. There was nothing he could do to help her, but his chest still tightened in self-loathing. Too helpless to help, it was the story of his life.

 

-.-.-.-

 

City water was disgusting. Even after years of drinking it John’s nose still wrinkled at the taste.

 

He forced himself to take another sip and went back to reading his two day old newspaper by lantern light.Apparently ‘Billionaire Bruce Wayne’ was endorsing Harvey Dent, the hotshot new DA. Eveyone was expecting Dent to make serious waves in the crime world. _At last Gotham can start to sleep soundly at night._

 

John rolled his eyes. Dent looked like just another Alpha who wanted to stroll into Gotham and throw his weight around.

 

He looked forward to Scarecrow’s commentary on the whole business once he got out of Arkham; which would likely be soon. People could say what they wanted, but breakouts hadn’t been a weekly occurrence when Arkham was under the watch of Dr. Crane.

 

His stomach gurgled and John took a large gulp to try and quiet it.

 

He’d hurt his ankle after a particularly bad jump the previous night. He wouldn’t be able to go find food for a couple days, so he had to ration what he had left in his space.

 

It was probably for the best though. When he got too tired he tended to lose focus, and that had happened enough for a lifetime.

 

John looked over to where his goggles sat on the edge of his bed and scowled. Scarecrow and Batman still hadn’t told anyone Nightwing’s secret, but it was only a matter of time. And when it happened, he knew people would try to catch him unawares.

 

Even Selina would turn her back on him, because as much as she complained, she was still a Beta. She didn’t really understand what it was to be completely trapped. Not even the Scarecrow did. Because for all they were stuck now, they’d still had their chance at life.

 

John liked to imagine what he would have done with his life if he’d been born a different gender. Maybe he would have been a cop, would’ve still gone out helping people. He’d have an apartment, a car, friends. Then again, maybe he’d end up just like the rest of them. Smug sheep who acted tough around anyone weaker, but cowered anytime something went bump in the night.

 

He looked back at the newspaper and growled at Harvey Dent’s face. This Alpha wasn’t going to make a real difference. No one did. Gotham was too toxic.

 

-.-.-.-

 

Nightwing stayed as far out of the Joker’s way as he could. He saw what the Joker was capable of and made the decision to not even show up on his radar. Nightwing had a niche and as long as the Joker never stumbled into it, then there was no reason they’d ever have to cross paths.

 

It all worked until the night he was out surveying the city, watching some ships in the harbor, traffic in the street, lighting flickering on and off in the skyscrapers. He heard Batman coming, like he always did, and when he ducked down Batman rushed right past him.

 

He reeked of panic.

 

Nightwing turned to go back to his business, only to complete a hundred and eighty degree turn and follow. He wasn’t sure if Batman even noticed.

 

They stopped at a tall skyscraper that was surrounded by cops. Helicopters hovered alongside it, shining bright spotlights into the windows. When Nightwing squinted he could see clown faces standing in full view. They looked like they were holding weapons, but none of their gestures looked hostile.

 

Batman vanished from his side, but Nightwing saw him in the building.

 

He looked back up and watched the clowns. He was too far away to see the hostages behind them, but something wasn’t quite right. His ears twitched and his eyes narrowed. It wasn’t right.

 

He climbed off the building and started prowling. SWAT teams were using all the entrances on the ground floor. The helicopters and snipers had the outside completely covered. Nightwing settled against the shadow of a large van, watching the SWAT vans carefully.

 

There were people around them, but one was a little further off to the side. Nightwing slunk out of his hiding spot and towards the vehicle.

 

Everyone’s attention was on the building, so he managed to sneak around to the back. It was completely empty. He felt stupid for hoping there’d be an extra uniform—

 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Nightwing stiffened and looked slowly over his shoulder. It was a younger man, probably a rookie, who had come back with a helmet that looked too big.

 

Nightwing almost wanted to weep at the incompetence of the GPD. But then he took in the man’s form and a predatory grin touched his mouth. He put his hands up and began to climb back into the van.

 

The young man followed, though his gun was still pointed at the ground. He whispered that he was a fan of Nightwing right before Nightwing jerked the gun away and hit him across the face with it. Then he pulled the body inside and shut the van door.

 

-.-.-.-

 

Nightwing climbed up the building, barely noticed by anyone in his stolen SWAT uniform. He reached the top of the building, just as the Joker had Batman pinned with his head hanging off the edge of the building.

 

“It’s a funny world we live in,” the Joker was saying. “Speaking of which, did I ever tell you how I got these scars?”

 

Nightwing ran forward and threw and arm around the Joker’s neck. He yanked, squeezing the throat as hard as he could. Batman knocked the detonator away and grabbed the front of the Joker’s shirt.

 

Nightwing let go of his neck and Batman threw him off the building. It was a brief stunned moment before Batman shot his grappling hook down and caught the Joker mid-air. His laughter floated up to them, delighted and insane, just like most of the villains Batman seemed to attract to Gotham.

 

They never showed up in purple suits and pounds of red lipstick when it was only Nightwing.

 

Grumbling, Nightwing grabbed onto the rope and helped pull the Joker back up to their floor. He was immensely glad for his tinted goggles when the spotlight from the police helicopter shined directly on his face.

 

“You,” the Joker looked like he was grinning. “You just couldn’t let me go, could you?

 

“You see, this is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.” The Joker licked his lips, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was dangling thirty stories off the ground. “You truly are incorruptible. You won’t kill me because of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won’t kill you, because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.”

 

Nightwing rolled his eyes. Between Selina, Scarecrow and now the Joker, Batman seemed to be building a pretty big fanclub. He really didn’t see the appeal. He tuned out when Batman and the Joker started a short back and forth. God, why was he even there?

 

He jumped when Batman stood suddenly. He snarled something under his breath as he left. Nightwing sighed and looked at the, laughing once again, Joker.

 

“You know,” Nightwing said, “I think it’s stupid. How he considers himself some incorruptible symbol. Won’t even kill someone with a double digit body count.”

 

“And what about you, feather-brain?” The Joker sang, “What are do you consider yourself?”

 

Nightwing didn’t even have to think about it. “I’m just a man,” he said, pulling a handgun from its holster and pointing it at the Joker’s head. He was just a man who had a niche, but he knew when and when not to spare a life.

 

He squeezed the trigger, and disappeared before the real SWAT team arrived.

 

-.-.-.-

 

Two days after he shot the Joker, Nightwing climbed onto the roof of a bank. It was just off the freeway that led into the downtown area. The bars would be having their last call soon, and all manner of characters would be let out onto the streets with lowered inhibitions and malicious intentions.

 

Batman was already waiting for him.

 

Nightwing could practically feel his glare, so he settled only halfway on the roof. “What?”

 

“You killed him,” Batman spat. “In cold blood.”

 

“Oh, that.” Nightwing’s muscles tensed further in anticipation for a quick getaway. “I killed him because you wouldn’t.”

 

“I’m not a murderer,” Batman snarled. “I always knew that you—you _assaulted_ people in some backwards attempt at justice— but this…”

 

He stopped, just staring at Nightwing with something like disgust and disbelief.

 

“Bullshit,” Nightwing said. “That’s complete bullshit. How the fuck do you even begin to get off saying that what you do is any different?”

 

“You—”

 

“No, seriously!” Nightwing raised his voice, not caring that it almost cracked from lack of use at that volume. “He had a fucking body count, a big one, and it almost got into the triple digits. Do you think someone like that is going to stop because you beat them up once?”

 

“He was going to prison,” Batman protested heatedly.

 

“Why do you have any faith in the justice system in this city? The cops are just as fucked up as everyone else.” Nightwing laughed the sound bordering on hysteria. “Either he would have broken out, or he would have paid them off. That’s how it works at Black Gate.”

 

Nightwing stood from his crouch. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to start running around, killing people.” Batman’s posture didn’t change. He didn’t think Nightwing was enough of a threat to even be on guard. Typical.

 

“But unlike you,” Nightwing sneered, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people I promised to protect.”

 

Batman stiffened instantly as though it struck a nerve. He eyed Nightwing coldly and said, “The police may be more interested in me these days, but they’d still be very happy to have you turned in.”

 

Nightwing’s gut clenched in a brief moment of fear and anger, and he shifted all his weight onto the foot closer to the ledge. He bared his teeth in a mocking smile, “I’m sure they would, _Bruce_.” He jumped.

 

They didn’t speak again after that.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, Bane is FINALLY in the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, woooh, finally Bane! 
> 
> (I wonder if I should add slow burn to the tags...)

Nightwing hadn’t seen Batman in three years, but the young people in Gotham were leaving his symbol everywhere; a few lines of white chalk on random surfaces depicting a crude bat.

 

He sneered at the symbol on the chimney of the boys’ home. It was a mark that showed their belief in the Batman and the disbelief that Batman killed Harvey Dent.

 

It was all very stupid because of course Batman didn’t kill anyone. Nightwing wasn’t there that night; he’d stayed behind to do his first direct kill; but he was positive that either Gordon killed Dent, or Dent had killed himself.

 

The government and media of course twisted the entire event into some kind of national tragedy and started pushing laws under Dent’s name.

 

He tilted his head to the side, listened quietly, and smiled. “You’d be a lot quieter without the stilettos.”

 

Selina snorted, “You’re just jealous that you can’t rock ‘em like me.”

 

She came close enough to see the bat drawing and snorted again, this time with more contempt. “A lot of the time I think he did more harm than good. Have you heard about the new one they’re trying to push?”

 

He’d read about it in passing. Selina saved him the trouble of responding. “They’re calling it the Dent Act. It denies parole, locks people up for _maybe_ being connected to organized crime,” Selina’s upper lip twitched. “I bet it’s only a matter of time before martial law or something.”

 

He didn’t know what that meant. So he said, “You’re not connected to organized crime, are you?”

 

“No,” she snapped. “But one foot in the wrong house and they can say I am. Lock me up, and throw away the key.”

 

Nightwing could hear her teeth grinding, and smell her anxiety wafting through her powdery deodorant. He shrugged, “You could lie low for a while, I suppose.”

 

“If only,” she said bitterly. “But a girls’ gotta eat.”

 

-.-.-.-

 

Poor taste in heroes aside, Nightwing couldn’t help but feel a little protective over all the kids from the boys’ home. There wasn’t much he could do even after all the years he spent guarding them, watching them grow up, learning all their names and faces.

 

He knew the boy he was following by the fall of his hair, the gait of his gangly legs, and the soft smell of omega on the cusp of puberty.

 

Anxiety gnawed at the inside of his stomach. The boy, Collin, was walking down towards the river, down towards one of the sewer entrances. It was the third time he’d seen a street kid going down below. He didn’t know what it was for, and couldn’t get any information anywhere.

 

It didn’t bode well with him.  

 

Collin slipped through a hole in the grate of an outflow at the edge of the river and disappeared quickly into the darkness.

 

Nightwing waited until the young boy’s footsteps faded before he followed.

 

He could see why the kids preferred this entrance. There were many dumping sites all along the polluted riverbank, each one smelling worse than the last. However, this particular passage carried the scent of old water, mineral deposits and only a small amount of animal (and human) waste.

 

Nightwing made it nearly forty feet into the darkness before he was accosted. People that his senses hadn’t detected until they were right on top of him, restraining his arms and pulling a rough bag over his head.  

 

There was something off about their scents through the material. They weren’t covered, so to speak, it was as though their body odor wafted by his noise and then disappeared into an herbal pungency that distracted his senses. It was so clever an idea that he considered stealing it.

 

Two people grabbed each of his arms, and then a third presence appeared at his back. Nightwing could see it in his mind’s eye. They were going to knock him out.

 

Without thinking he dropped limp in their grasps, just enough that they were forced to adjust their grips. Then he twisted and kicked out as hard as he could. His foot connected with something solid and warm, and he used the momentum to launch himself backwards.

 

His left arm was freed, but the other was held fast. He and his assailant fell back onto the ground.

 

Nightwing ripped the bag off his head. There were three of them, and the two that were still standing were almost on top of him. _Fuck_.

 

He jerked his arm free and somersaulted backwards. He landed on his feet with barely enough time to duck under a punch.

 

They were dressed in black and moved with the shadows, blending in with the dark surroundings. But Nightwing was no stranger to darkness, and managed several more dodges before they realized that he could see them perfectly.

 

Their strikes grew more aggressive, and underneath his own rapid heartbeat, he could faintly hear more footsteps approaching.

 

Nightwing wasn’t accustomed to close combat. One of them struck him hard on the back of his head, and he fell to his knees. The two new people didn’t even pause when they arrived, one of them kicked him hard in the side and he fell over wheezing. Then the bag was over his head again.

 

He tried to struggle, but they kicked him again in the stomach so hard he had to bite back stomach bile. He swallowed it back and groaned quietly.

 

They grabbed his arms and began dragging.

 

Nightwing tried to listen to the surroundings as they pulled him through. He knew each damp spot, each drop of water from the ceiling and the way the sounds echoed off the walls. But none of it seemed very familiar. They were taking him further and further into the parts of the sewer that he almost never bothered exploring.

 

His captors were muttering to each other in a language he couldn’t understand.

 

They repeated one word more than anything else though.

 

“Bane.” 

 

Every time he tried to move, they would pause to twist his arms behind his back until he went limp again. It was painful and demeaning.

 

“I can walk you know,” He grumbled.

 

“You would do well to be quiet, passarinho,” A woman’s voice said. Her voice carried, bouncing off cement and metal, mingling with rushing water, only to come back sharper in one spot.

 

They were either approaching a door or a wall. Nightwing tried to sniff again, but his own deodorized scent had filled up the bag. He couldn’t even detect the herbal smells that it originally came with.

 

There was a knock of flesh on metal, followed by more muted whispers.

 

“He came in through one of the river entrances.” 

 

“I will tell him.”

 

Nightwing tested his arms again, only to have his shoulder twisted. He gritted his teeth against the pain, refusing to cry out no matter how much he wanted to. He’d never been caught before, not as Nightwing, not when he was supposed to be powerful.

 

“Bring him in.”

 

They dragged him forward again, this time only about ten feet or so before they just stopped.

 

The first thing that Nightwing noticed was that the only sound in the room was a slow, heavy breath, rasping through something that sounded metallic. He frowned in confusion and his second ears twitched just a little under their protective layers.

 

He heard heartbeats, ten of them at varying paces, the sound of water, a little closer, and the breathing. It was so much louder than everything else that he couldn’t help but zero in on it. What the fuck was in that room?

 

And then someone beside him reached down, grabbed his goggles through the bag and yanked them off. His beanie and hood were pulled off as well, leaving his entire face, his head and ears completely exposed.

 

But he didn’t even have time to process that. A scent, so spicy it almost burned, struck at his senses, wrapped around them, molded to them and tingled all throughout his body. If Nightwing hadn’t been already kneeling his legs would have buckled out from underneath him. His instincts screamed at him. _Alpha,_ they said, _undiluted Alpha._

 

His vision, that he hadn’t noticed going out of focus, finally took in the room. In front of him, standing over the rest of the occupants, was a hulking figure of muscle that seemed barely contained by a simple black shirt and cargo pants. Nearly all of the man’s face was covered in a muzzle-like mask, except for the eyes. They were cold and grey and staring at Nightwing very intently, flickering away only to glance passingly at his ears.

 

Nightwing’s jaw trembled, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to roll onto his back, show his belly, spread his legs, present his— Then he realized what he was thinking. Revulsion replaced his hormones and Nightwing bared his teeth and snarled. “What. The. _Fuck._ ”

 

The cold look in the Alpha’s eyes faded to amusement. “Nightwing,” his voice rasped through the grate, but held a rich, almost booming quality. “Your reputation precedes you.”

 

“ _Part_ of it,” murmured a smaller man to his left.

 

Nightwing’s ears flattened back against his skull. “I can still fight,” he hissed. “Don’t think for one fucking second that—just because I—” His rage tried to push all the words out at once. He didn’t want to say the word ‘omega’ even if they could already see it.

 

The Alpha blinked slowly and tilted his head. “My men are highly trained, experienced warriors,” he said, amusement lacing his tone. “It took five of them to subdue you. No one here doubts your abilities.”

 

That caught him off guard a little. So much so that Nightwing was shaken out of his indignant anger enough to really take in the expressions of everyone in the room. They were all watching him warily, as though he was a threat. Him, an omega, down on his knees and heavily outnumbered.

 

It was as flattering as it was confusing.

 

“Although,” the Alpha spoke again, “I was given to understand that you had no interest in men like us.”

 

Nightwing met the Alpha’s eye, idly realizing in the back of his mind how long it had been since he last looked at another person without the tint from his goggles. He scowled, “There are a lot of kids looking for work down here. I’m not a fucking moron, there are only two things it could be.”

 

Drug running or prostitution, and either way it was too fucked up to pass up on. Why was it that he was the only person who cared about kids’ innocence anymore? He inhaled sharply, meaning to seek out Collin’s scent, only to get a fresh wave of Alpha flooding his system. God, and he thought Bruce was overwhelming.

 

“You misunderstand.” The Alpha looked meaningfully at the people flanking Nightwing, and they stepped away. “Come, and I will show you what the children do.”

 

The more the Alpha talked, the easier it was for Nightwing to discern a slight accent. The articulation was too graceful, too careful, as though English wasn’t his first language but one he knew better than most native speakers.

 

Nightwing nodded once, warily. “Fine, mind if I walk by myself?”

 

The Alpha glanced in passing at the two people holding Nightwing’s arms and they immediately released him and returned his goggles, but not his beanie. He scrambled to his feet, pulled his goggles on and  adjusted his hood. They already knew what he was and what he looked like, but that didn’t mean they were allowed to gawk.

 

He glared up at the Alpha, “So what am I supposed to call you?”

 

“I am Bane.”

 

Bane brushed past him, unleashing another wave of his scent to assault Nightwing’s nose.

 

Nightwing ignored the tingling shooting from the base of his neck to the tip of his tail. He tried focusing instead on following after Bane, taking him in from behind.

 

Bane was only a little taller than Bruce (who was one of the tallest Alphas Nightwing had ever seen in person) but he was packed with hard muscle that rippled and moved with every step. Nightwing’s eyes trailed down to Bane’s feet and he realized that his own footsteps were louder than Bane’s. It didn’t make sense, Bane was wearing large, sturdy boots and Nightwing was in sneakers.  

 

“The children come here of their own accord.” Bane said, startling Nightwing out of his annoyed distraction. “They flock to us because this is the safest work they can find in the city.”

 

“Which is?” Nightwing growled.

 

Bane didn’t answer until they walked a few more feet and turned a corner. The whole room opened up into a large, spacious area. He walked to the railing ahead of them and leaned over it. There was another below them, and another above. There were kids everywhere, pushing wheel-barrels with sacks of cement mix, carrying bundles of rebar, and the smallest kids were simply running around, offering sandwiches and water to the more fatigued.

 

“Construction,” he said quietly, “you’re having them…build something?”

 

His nose twitched as Bane settled beside him against the rail. He could smell that a few of Bane’s lackeys had followed them down the hall too. He climbed up and perched on the rail, ready to jump if any of them tried to touch him.

 

Bane didn’t even blink at his actions. “I have some plans,” he said, slowly turning to look at Nightwing. “I came to Gotham with a purpose, and refitting these sewers is the first step.”

 

It couldn’t be anything particularly difficult, considering who he employed. Nightwing still frowned. “Why are you here?”

 

Bane’s eyes became distant but they remained fixed on Nightwing. When he spoke, his voice rasped through the mask breathily. “There is a world culture that I do not approve of, and it has a particularly strong hold on Gotham.”

 

“What culture?”

 

“The hierarchy system, of course,” Bane refocused on Nightwing’s head where his ears were twitching. “Or had you not noticed a problem?”

 

“The hier— Just cut the shit,” Nightwing snapped. “What exactly does a makeover for the sewer lead to?”

 

“A revolution.”

 

There was something about the way Bane said it that caused goose bumps to break out all over Nightwing’s skin. The words were so charged and powerful when they came from Bane, it could almost knock the breath out of a person.

 

“Equality,” Bane continued. “Everyone man, woman and child, every Alpha, Beta, and omega on the same level.”

 

Nightwing chewed his lip, staring down at the kids instead of at Bane. Between his voice and his scent, Nightwing already felt as if his senses were becoming muddied.

 

“Sounds like you want to watch the world burn,” he said quietly. Then he chanced a look at Bane.

 

Bane was staring at him again, but this time the sides of his eyes were scrunched like he was grinning. “Not just watch, little bird,” he said deeply, “I want to pull the pin on the grenade.”  

 

-.-.-.-

 

Nightwing leapt from his perch with barely a second to spare. He tucked his head down and angled his body to roll as he hit the roof below. Normally he wouldn’t make jumps like that without carefully aiming, but the police were getting a little more creative, and aggressive, in their efforts.

 

This attempt appeared to be a sniper.

 

He didn’t bother stopping to hide. He kept running until he reached the river.

 

Thanks to Batman, vigilantes had turned into public enemy number one. And after he went missing the police turned all their focus towards Nightwing. They stopped him from doing actual work to help people, forced him to hide out more and more in the sewers.

 

John hated it, knowing that he was safe in his space while other people were out being abused by the scum of the city. And then it made him think of what Bane said.

 

Of course he didn’t believe that Bane was there to start a _revolution_. The man looked like the very definition of an Alpha. How would he benefit with equality? It was ludicrous.

 

Still, John lied curled up in his space, sniffing his sweatshirt. He told himself it was to try and identify what herbs the people used to fuck with his nose, and he purposefully ignored the way Bane’s undiluted scent made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

 

He hated Alphas, but sometimes he hated his own biology more.

 

Nightwould _would_ go back to check on them. It didn’t look like any kind of brothel he’d ever seen, but that didn’t mean anything about it was as innocent or noble as Bane tried to make it seem.

 

Besides, Bane looked like a brute, but his eyes told a different story. The clarity never left them, even when he saw what John was. The idea of someone with that kind of control only seemed more untrustworthy.

 

 

-.-.-.-

 

 

Three days later it was raining, but cops were crawling all over the Narrows. If he thought they’d bother doing any good, Nightwing would pat himself on the back for luring so many there. Some of them seemed to be noticing all the commonplace horrors, some of them barely batted an eye before moving on. But all in all, Nightwing knew, as he crawled back to the sewers, that there would ultimately be more people suffering for the lack of his freedom to come and go.

 

To ease his conscious he went back to check on the children with Bane.

 

Bane told him before he left that he was welcome to return again. (And he said in no uncertain terms that he’d snap Nightwing’s neck if the police ever found out about them—because Nightwing and the police had a famously wonderful relationship.)

 

Nightwing had been skeptical, but he didn’t bother trying to sneak in. They’d heard him  coming before he heard them.

 

Rain from up top leaked through in a few places. It was murky where it landed, and Nightwing could see people weaving around the small puddles on the ground.

 

He walked through the bustling kids and adults completely ignored as if he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. They’d never returned his beanie, so he’d been forced to pilfer a new one. It was striped red, yellow, and lime green.

 

The cement floor ended and turned to a grate over the water that rushed out into the river.

 

Nightwing spotted a ledge that would be just wide enough for him to walk along and get a bird’s eye view. No pun intended.

 

He pushed his way to the railing along the edge of the grate and prepared to climb. He was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

 

“Hey, you’re really him, aren’t you?”

 

The scent of dirt and beta hit Nightwing’s nose and he snarled and twisted away. This wasn’t one of Bane’s men; he must have decided to hire some older people from the city in the past couple of days.

 

The Beta was watching him with a hint of surprise and a heap of hatred. “You’re that shit who keeps attacking people!”

 

This was the kind of reaction he’d been waiting for since he showed up. Even if Bane was miraculously an Alpha who kept his word, the same couldn’t necessarily be said for the rest of his ‘employees.’ Still, Nightwing wasn’t one to say no to some misplaced aggression.

 

He waited for the Beta to throw the first punch. It was nothing compared to what Nightwing tried to fight off the first time. He dodged to the left and aimed his knee straight for the Beta’s groin.

 

It didn’t pan out quite like he thought it would. The Beta saw the attack coming just in time to angle his hips. Nightwing’s knee still made contact, but more to the thigh.

 

There was little more to the scuffle than that before Bane’s actual men fell upon them and dragged them apart.  

 

Nightwing started to thrash, but he was quickly released and pushed to the side. He recognized the man who grabbed him by his sleepy demeanor and the hint of tea tree oil in his scent.

 

The man crowded up into the Beta’s face said in a low, slow accent, “It was made clear that Nightwing was to be left alone.” Then he looked at the others and jerked his head. “Take him to Bane.” 

 

“I had it covered,” Nightwing protested.

 

“It doesn’t matter. Bane gave very specific orders, and he’ll be very unhappy to know they weren’t obeyed.”

 

And didn’t that sound exactly like an Alpha.

 

“Come, he’ll want to see you too.” The man waved for him to follow.

 

Nightwing crossed his arms but walked after him. He was led to a makeshift room where Bane was standing, shirtless, glaring down at the Beta who was babbling.

 

“Barsad,” Bane looked at the man with Nightwing.

 

“He’s fine,” Barsad gestured to Nightwing. Then he said something in another language. It led to him and Bane having a short exchange.

 

Nightwing only spoke English, but he knew that he was hearing French mixed in with…Japanese maybe? He realized that they were switching languages every few words.

 

“Very well,” Bane said, suddenly breaking the conversation.

 

Barsad nodded and stepped to the side.

 

Bane crooked a finger and the people holding the Beta shoved him forward. He fell on his knees and shook, still babbling under his breath. Without further ado, Bane grabbed his head with both hands and snapped his neck.

 

The body dropped to the ground and Bane didn’t give it any further attention. He simply stepped over it and approached Nightwing.

 

“You,” Nightwing whispered, staring at the twisted neck. “You killed him.” He was well acquainted with violence and gore, but this was different. Taking a life was easy for Bane; he probably did it all the time. Was it terrifying or arousing? The difference really should have been apparent.

 

“As an example. No one will bother you again.” Bane glanced around the room, as if making sure everyone was alert and listening to him.

 

“Why does it matter?” Why would Bane go so far as to kill someone, just for messing with Nightwing? It didn’t make sense, and it was starting to piss him off.

 

Bane only smiled at him from behind the mask, as if Nightwing was a child.

 

The body was cleared away, and then the room emptied out, save for Bane and Nightwing.  

 

“We would both benefit from progressing in an amiable working relationship.” Bane walked over to a stack of crates and sat down.

 

Nightwing didn’t know some of those words, but he did catch ‘working relationship’ which threw up a few red flags. He growled, but Bane stayed reclining with his arms crossed and his legs stretched out.

 

The last ‘working relationship’ he’d had with Batman had blown up in his face. Even if it hadn’t, he hardly trusted anything Bane said or did. “I don’t know what you’ll expect to get from me, but it’s not gonna happen.”

 

Bane shrugged carelessly. “I’ve been honest with you. When you understand that, you’ll change your mind.”

 

“If you’re so honest,” Nightwing scanned him quickly, looking for something to pick a fight about. “Then why do you wear a mask?”

 

Mask was a little bit of a stretch. It looked more like a weird breathing apparatus.

 

Bane looked remarkably unimpressed, but he still answered. “No one cared who I was until I put on the mask.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“Why do you wear yours?”

 

Nightwing’s hands went protectively to his goggles. “It kind of comes with the job.”

 

“But I already know your face. What are you afraid of?”

 

He was being goaded, as if he’d fall for something like that. Nightwing just glared fiercely through his tinted goggles.

 

The longer the silence stretched, the more amused Bane looked. And then he slowly reached up and removed his mask.

 

 

-.-.-.-

 

 

All of his years in Gotham had him more or less accustomed to certain patterns. One of them was that Alpha or Beta men attacked people.

 

But then, he’d witnessed an omega woman shoving a little girl towards a car. At first he thought it was a woman and her child having a disagreement. He’d stopped to watch, just to make sure they were okay. But then the woman’s hand slipped down where it shouldn’t, and the little girl whimpered quietly.

 

His ears could just barely hear the woman threatening the little girl’s family.

 

He’d heard enough.

 

He’d never beaten a woman unconscious before. She’d bled a lot after he slammed her face into the side of her car.

 

The little girl hadn’t run away when he told her to. She’d clung to him, bloody as he was, and sobbed that she wanted her mommy.

 

John nearly cried, but Nightwing gently scooped her up and followed her directions back to a supermarket parking lot.

 

There was a Beta woman, screaming hysterically at three policemen.

 

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” she’d sobbed. “She’s an Alpha. This isn’t supposed to happen to her!”

 

Nightwing frowned and set the little girl on the ground. She immediately took off towards the woman and they reunited tearfully.

 

He’d left when the cops noticed him.

 

Nightwing sat on top of an apartment building, wiping blood splatter off his sweatshirt. He meticulously worked his stolen washcloth over the fabric, focusing to take his mind of his roiling stomach. It was a terrible mix of starving and nauseated.

 

Everything was all mixed up in his head. Why would an omega do that type of thing? It didn’t make sense or add up or… His insides clenched like he wanted to throw up, but he couldn’t afford to lose anymore fluids, so he swallowed back the bile.

 

The very idea was so disturbing that he was nearly grateful when he sensed a presence behind him. He caught the scent of tea tree oil and cocked his head. “How long have you been there?”

 

“A few minutes,” Barsad replied.

 

Nightwing glanced down at his shirt. The blood would either fade or it wouldn’t, he’d done all he could. He stood and turned. “You know, not even Batman can sneak up on me.”

 

Barsad’s lip twitched at the name. “Speaking of that, Bane would like to see you.”

 

“Why?” Nightwing stepped back towards the ledge. He and Bane had parted on…embarrassing terms. He hadn’t been prepared for what Bane’s face would look like under the mask, and the sight of him, plus the usual overwhelming scent of him had resulted in a small _whimper_ from Nightwing. He’d promptly turned and fled.

 

If Barsad’s not-smirk was anything to go by, he’d probably heard about it.

 

“He wants to talk to you about Batman.”

 

“No.” Nightwing said, and promptly jumped off the building, and from what he could tell, Barsad didn’t follow him.

 

His suspicion of Bane only lasted for so long. It served as a distraction up until John was winding down for his two hours of sleep. Then his thoughts went to the woman, and he couldn’t cope.

 

Nightwing slipped his clothes back on and went to see Bane.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I hope you liked it! 
> 
> PS - if you're still hurting for BanexBlake reading material, [Tony](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tony/pseuds/Tony), [Quinn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinnster/pseuds/Quinnster) and I are doing a drabble war on tumblr. 
> 
> Check out the BanexBlake tag and see if anything tickles your fancy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeeey, so it has been FOREVER since I updated and I feel terrible so here is this thing. Short chapter, unbetad, and uh... I got nothing. 
> 
> I'm SORRY! I'll try and make it up to peeps at a later date, but for the moment I just have to update something. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Several people, holding large duffel bags, were leaving Bane’s makeshift room as Barsad, who had been waiting at the edge of the tunnel, led Nightwing inside. They gave passing glances, but otherwise moved past them as silent as shadows. Bane himself was seated on his crate, in almost the same position as the last time Nightwing saw him. He was once again wearing his mask.  

 

“Nightwing, sit.” Bane said it and gestured invitingly, but there was nowhere to sit but the bed and floor.   

 

Nightwing huffed and crossed his arms. “I’ll stand. What do you want?”

 

Bane’s eyes shifted to Barsad. Their momentary silence was deafening; they were having a wordless conversation in spite of him. “You,” Bane looked back at him, “have worked with the Batman these past years.”

 

Ah, so that was what this was about. Nightwing might have known that something like this would have come up sooner or later. Nevermind that he’d been stalking the rooftops for years, all anyone wanted to talk about was _The Batman_

Nightwing held his hands up and shifted his weight to lean towards the door. Alphas had a tendency to use fights and say ‘pretty please’ never. And he was under no illusions, Bane would destroy him. “Wait, no, look. I sort of worked with him twice. I don’t think there’s anything I could tell you.”

 

“You’re very correct,” Barsad drawled derisively. “But you aren’t here to give us an intelligence report.”

 

Nightwing’s mouth twisted, but he held back from reacting in his offense beyond snapping, “Then why am I here?”

 

Bane and Barsad exchanged another look. Their silent conversation was briefer that time, and by the end Barsad looked as annoyed as a person with no expression could. He barely glanced at Nightwing as he left, but he did close the door behind him with more force than necessary. 

 

So not a conversation; an argument.

 

“You are aware of his philosophies?” Bane spoke as if the entire exchange hadn’t happened.

 

Nightwing decided to go along with it. It was hardly his problem if they had a lover’s spat. “I guess.”

 

“And do you agree with them?”

 

“With what?” Nightwing sighed loudly. He’d come to reduce his boredom, not play twenty questions about Batman. “What philosophies or what-fucking-ever are you talking about?”

 

Bane’s eyes hooded, and for a moment, Nightwing was positive he was angry. He started to lean back towards the door, but then Bane simply tilted his head to the side and just stared. The piercing look went on for long enough that Nightwing started to fidget.

 

“He does not kill his enemies,” Bane said, startling him.

 

Nightwing thought of the Joker and his lip curled. “No, no he doesn’t.”

 

“And you disapprove?”

 

“If you don’t kill them, they’ll just come after you.” And Bruce wanted to leave them all alive, as if they’d change somehow. It was racking up a higher body count of civilians. Bruce had only ended up with _innocent_ blood on his hands.

 

“Yes they do,” Bane smiled. “I am going to take my mask off now. I would appreciate it if you did the same.”

 

Nightwing froze, and then cast a glance around the room to reassure that they were alone. “Why?”

 

“So we may speak frankly,” Bane bared his face and Nightwing grit his teeth and looked away.

 

He ran away the first time, when Bane caught him off guard. It had been a shock; Bane’s aura suggested that Nightwing should have spied a monster, but what he saw was a handsome face spider-webbed with scars and dusted with a fair beard.  

 

He looked away and spotted three crates stacked atop one another. Watching Bane out of the corner of his eye, Nightwing climbed up and settled nearly twelve feet off the ground. If he was going to show his face, he wanted to be off the ground where it was safer.

 

Bane only seemed amused, not offended, so Nightwing slowly pushed back his hood. He started to stop, wondering if that would be enough because he was already showing more than anyone had seen other than his father, but Bane just kept watching him.

 

Nightwing pulled his goggles down around his neck and cleared his throat. He’d almost forgotten what another person looked like without the plastic of his goggles tinting his vision. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I’m leaving my hat on.”

 

Bane’s mouth twitched and he nodded, “If you like.”

 

His eyes flitted all over Nightwing’s bare face, no doubt memorizing every detail. It was uncomfortable, but there was little danger in his interest. It wasn’t as though he’d be able to find Nightwing on the street. Besides, Bane already knew his biggest secret…

 

Nightwing licked his lips. “They didn’t seem surprised before.” He touched his beanie self-consciously where his second ears were two obvious lumps.

 

“They were,” Bane said. “We have been many places and have seen many things. However, I have only seen the remnants of one of your kind. Once a long time ago and even then it was only bones.”

 

“Ah…” He hadn’t been expecting anything when he asked the question, but being told _that_ was a little isolating. “So, uh, Batman?”

 

“Batman,” Bane nodded. “And perhaps your clear dislike of him.”

 

“It’s just so stupid!” Nightwing exclaimed. “Him, his little minions or whatever. They’re so…”

 

He made a frustrated sound. He didn’t even know what word to describe them. He kept saying ‘stupid’ but it wasn’t enough. He finally had someone new to actually rant to and all he think of were angry noises and rude gestures.

 

Bane shifted, and his seat creaked under his weight. “And you are not the same as them?”

 

“No.” Nightwing snarled. He thought of when he yelled at Bruce the last time, about how he was doing the same thing—it didn’t seem right anymore. “He thought he could save the city.”

 

“You disagree?” Bane leaned forward, looking completely interest for the first time.

 

“I save who I can every night, but,” Nightwing sighed, and dammit if he didn’t feel exhausted just thinking about what he did. “But Gotham itself is too far gone. Even the Dent Act isn’t really working. It’s just another thing that everyone thinks is a cure all.”

 

Crane liked to rant and rave about the Dent Act and all the problems with it. Nightwing wracked his brain to remember the phrase he’d used. “It’s a short term plan without any long term thought behind it. They’ll fill up Black Gate and then everything will blow up in their face.”

 

Bane wasn’t particularly expressive but something about the way his mouth curved and his eyes squinted made him look positively gleeful.

 

“You are a smart boy, Nightwing.” His mouth fully curved and if that wasn’t unsettling enough, Nightwing could smell his satisfaction wafting around with his natural pheromones. “If you are willing, I would like to speak with you again soon.”

 

-.-.-.-

 

“Seriously though,” Nightwing shifted his perch, but continued staring down at the twitchy man who was standing near the bus stop. “Doesn’t your back hurt at the end of the day?”

 

He could practically feel Selina flipping him off, but she still came closer and joined him at the ledge. She was morose as usual; obsessed with the new laws that Gotham was almost always passing and losing more and more of her high spirited spunk every time he saw her.

 

“Seen the news lately?” She asked.

 

“I still don’t own a TV.”

 

Selina groaned melodramatically, even going so far as to lean back with the prolonged sound. “How do you not own a TV?”

 

“…I’m broke?” 

 

“ _I’m_ broke,” Selina protested. “You’re living in the 1800’s!”

 

“Holy shit,” Nightwing stood up out of his crouch in exasperation. “Do you want to tell me what you saw on the news, or keep talking about how I’m a broke ass?”

 

She snorted, but produced a torn off piece of newspaper from…somewhere on her person. “I figured you’d need catching up. Look at this; apparently Bruce Wayne decided to try his hand at something a little more eco-friendly.”

 

Nightwing took the paper from her and glanced at it passingly. “He’s working with Miranda Tate?” Selina was generally smug whenever Miranda Tate came up in conversation. Nightwing chalked it up to ‘beta pride.’

 

“Mmhmm, the beta CEO. They’re pouring millions into some green energy project.”

 

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

 

“I just don’t trust it.” She crossed her arms, staring out at the city skyline. “Maybe I would if it was just her, but Bruce Wayne? He’s an Alpha, since when did he give a damn what happened in this city. His life’s already perfect.”

 

Nightwing smirked a little at that. “So what, you think it’s a scam or…”

 

But then he held up a hand to keep her from answering, because a white van had pulled up to the curb where the twitchy man was standing.  He approached the window and traded a wad of bills for several sandwich bags filled with yellow powder.

 

“Wow,” Nightwing grinned. “Why do people keep buying from him?”

 

“What?” Selina stopped glaring at his interrupting hand and looked down at the streets. “Who?”

 

“Crane,” Nightwing clicked his tongue and amended, “Scarecrow. Look, he’s meeting with a dealer.”

 

She squinted, trying to peer into the van, but she wouldn’t see anything. There were two innocuous, blue collared men in the driver and passenger seat, while the van was squeaky clean and easy to overlook. But Nightwing knew Crane’s van by heart, and knew he’d been hiding in the back with his product.

 

“I guess if you’re a junkie it doesn’t matter as long as you get your fix.” Selina was starting to sound far away again.

 

Nightwing shrugged, the strongest thing he’d ever tried was apple juice that may have fermented into apple beer.

 

The van pulled away and started driving slowly through the nearly empty street. Nightwing immediately started following by rooftop, and Selina quickly followed after him.

 

“Where are we going?” She called.

 

“He’ll park in an alley and send his goons away.” He motioned for her to follow him down a fire escape. They dropped down in the shadows and ran across the street, just after the van passed.

 

“What do you do when there isn’t a ladder?” Selina asked, once they were up on the adjacent roof.

 

Nightwing rolled his eyes, because as long as it wasn’t a flat brick wall he could find a lot of ways to get up. But he shrugged and said, “I don’t climb down.”

 

The van’s brakes squealed down on the road, so Nightwing crept over to the edge and ducked low. The driver and the passenger had gotten out, and were counting their money between them as they disappeared into the street.

 

After several moments of silence (impatient on Selina’s part) the back of the van opened and Scarecrow climbed out. The bottom half of his mask was pushed up, and a cigarette rested between his lips. The end glowed as he took a long drag, and he exhaled it all in a single breath.

 

Crane didn’t like holding the smoke in for very long.

 

“They looked smarted than your usual crew,” Nightwing stood up and he could see that the van had been parked almost directly under another fire escape. He beckoned to Selina again and climbed down on top of it.

 

Crane smirked and took another drag. “New friend?” He asked, pointing to Selina.

 

Nightwing made a noncommittal noise, but Selina corrected him. “Old friend, actually. I didn’t know he was socializing with drug dealers though.”

 

“Technically,” Crane drawled, “I’m a supplier. And what are you supposed to be?”

 

“I’m Catwoman.”

 

“She’s Selina,” Nightwing cringed because Crane had a terrible, shit eating grin on his face. “She’s burglar.”

 

“A _cat_ burglar,” Crane said delightedly. “Isn’t that fun.”

 

“How about that green energy?” Nightwing threw out, desperate to get away from that line of discussion. Much as he trusted Crane at this point not to betray him, there was still the fact to consider that he was completely insane and could let something slip. “Bruce Wayne and Miranda Tate?”

 

Crane’s mouth twisted and he said, “I’m not sure if I’m more disgusted or morbidly entertained.” He took another short drag. “But I suppose it’s something for the public to gawk at, right until it all falls apart.”

 

“Why do you think it’ll all fall apart?” Selina asked. She’d dropped down to the fire escape but didn’t join Nightwing on top of the van. Nightwing wasn’t surprised at her wariness, considering Crane’s part in the Narrows Incident.  

 

“Simple. She’s a beta bitch who’s trying to get ahead by partnering with an Alpha.”

 

Nightwing started to cringe back. The tension between Crane and Selina was getting increasingly awkward and he was barely adept at handling one person.    

 

“What a shocker,” Selina prowled to the ladder and bared her teeth. “The gender equivalent of a sex hole doesn’t like betas.”

 

Nightwing was done and so was John. He held up his hands, “I’m out.”

 

“Oh by all means,” Crane drawled. “Stay; she’s making some very interesting points.”

 

Selina was one of the only people he had to talk to; Nightwing didn’t want to ruin it by hearing her opinion on omegas. He nodded to them both and left them to their bitch-fight. With any luck they’d both still be standing the next time he saw them.

 

-.-.-.-

 

The sewers were quiet, but something about them hummed with energy. Nightwing probably only noticed it because they were his domain. He would always know when something was amiss in them, even if to the naked eye they appeared as dead and empty as always.

 

Bane and his people were careful to keep any and all clues of their existence hidden, but he could feel their presence like an itch in the back of his mind. He was halfway to his space before he decided that it was making him too restless to retire for the night. He wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, only running over Crane and Selina’s words in his head.

 

He made his way back towards the hideout. His arrival didn’t go unnoticed, but unlike his first visit, no one accosted him and threw a sack over his head.

 

The amount of people was significantly less than before, and Nightwing didn’t see any of the children. They were likely sleeping at that time of night, which he figured they would be. He had no reason to be there other than to see Bane.

 

No matter how little he trusted the man, there was still a serious shortage of people he had to talk to. The city was quiet that night, so all he had were John’s thoughts in dark places, or Bane’s company.

 

Unfortunately he wasn’t exactly sure where Bane’s quarters were. The first time he’d been blind folded, and the second time Barsad had led him quickly and wordlessly. Nightwing would have to either ask, or scent the air for Bane. Neither was appealing.

 

“I was surprised when my men told me you returned.”

 

Nightwing hissed and jumped up to the nearest railing. All his life no one had ever been able to sneak up on him, but lo and behold sewer people from God knew where ended up being ninjas.

 

He glared at Bane, though he knew the look was hidden behind his goggles. “Don’t do that.”

 

Bane’s thumbs were hooked imperiously on his heavy vest and it severely undercut the demure tilt of his head as he uttered an apology. “Have you come to see me?”

 

“Yeah,” Nightwing grumbled, relaxing his hackles just enough to slip down off the rail. “You said you wanted to talk again and I’m feeling chatty.”

 

“Good.” Bane turned and began walking. Between his quick pace and ridiculously long strides Nightwing had to scramble to keep pace.

 

He felt ridiculously small next to Bane, only reaching chest height. It was incredible how someone so huge could be so utterly silent as he led them back to the makeshift wall of his room.

 

“Does everyone here have their own room?” Nightwing asked.

 

“No.” Bane opened the door and entered first. Which was just fine with Nightwing, the last thing he wanted to do was put his back to an Alpha.

 

“But I mean,” he looked at the walls as he went in. It looked as though they’d been thrown up and then balanced against various crates and containers. “Why is this here then?”

 

“I have delicate equipment that must be protected from the water. However, I find I have an affinity for the sound of it nearby, so I choose to be here.” Bane watched Nightwing close the door and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a room here?”

 

“No thanks.” He replied immediately. “Just wondering.”

 

Now that Bane mentioned it, there was something soothing about the sound of the water rushing just on the other side of the wall. If he didn’t hate being wet as much as he did, Nightwing thought he might enjoy the sound of rain too.

 

Bane sat down in an old but sturdy looking chair next to a desk that was pushed against the far wall away from the water. He watched Nightwing carefully, even as he carelessly fiddled with the straps of his mask.

 

So no pointed warning that time, not that Nightwing needed it. He spotted his perch from before and sighed inwardly with relief. Even if it wouldn’t necessarily protect him should danger arise, it was still nice to feel like he had a buffer of space.

 

He climbed up the crates and settled against the way before he pulled off his hood and goggles. His shoulders protested a little, but Nightwing had grown used to ignoring the aches and pains that constantly afflicted his body.

 

“So these are still here,” he said, mostly to break the silence. “This where you keep your clothes?”

 

Bane’s nose wrinkled just at the bridge for a moment then he shook his head. “Much of our machinery and supplies aren’t yet needed, but it is still prudent to keep them close.”

 

Machinery? Nightwing didn’t know enough about coups to guess what sort of ‘machinery’ they’d need, unless Bane was talking about weapons. He’d seen enough men and women with guns walking about to make it seem like a valid guess. He didn’t bother voicing it though, on the off chance that Bane didn’t want him to know.

 

“Did you come simply to ask about my living habits?” Bane smirked.

 

Nightwing bristled and his ears spasmed uncomfortably under his beanie. He hissed, “you’re the one who wanted me to come. I can leave if you want.”

 

Bane didn’t stop smirking. But he did rise from his chair and go towards the back of the room where a curtain hung. Bane brushed it to the side and Nightwing caught a glimpse of a bed and more containers. But Bane found what he wanted quickly and shut the curtain again.

 

He set a thermos on the desk and sat down again. He took off the lid and poured some steaming liquid into the lid-cup.

 

Nightwing’s nose twitched and he sniffed deeply. It smelled spicy, but nice. “What is that?”

 

“Tea,” Bane said, sipping it delicately. “It was steeping when I was informed you’d arrived. Would you like some?”

 

“I’ll pass.” He watched Bane continue to sip it as though he was perfectly content with his life and company. Nightwing shook his head, but couldn’t help but relax a little more. He reached up and tugged at his beanie, hesitantly at first, but then he pulled it off completely. His ears sprang free and his hair tumbled around his face.

 

If Bane cared at all, he didn’t show it.

 

“… Did you hear about Miranda Tate?”

 

Bane paused, looking down at his cup in thought. After a moment he resumed motion and poured more tea. “She and Bruce Wayne have many plans for the city.” He said neutrally.

 

“Yeah but,” Nightwing scowled and pushed his messy curls out of his eyes. “What do you think about it?”

 

Bane was a leader, and spoke like a man more educated even than Crane. Nightwing wondered if he would dismiss either of the CEOs as easily as Nightwing’s other conversation partners.

 

“They are ambitious.” Bane answered with a shrug. “Yet ultimately they fail to address the true problem. It is a mistake that most wealthy tend to make, when they bother to address a problem at all.”

 

That…wasn’t what he was expecting.

 

He picked at his fraying sleeve and considered his next question. “But Miranda Tate,” he said, “what about the fact that she’s a beta?”

 

Bane snorted quietly and raised an eyebrow up at him. “How is that relevant?”

 

Nightwing’s lips tugged into a grin and he looked away. What indeed?

 

“Maybe I would like some tea.”

 

Bane nodded and stood to hand the rest of the thermos to him. There were bits of the tea leaves and other things, but it was good, and warm.

 

Nightwing listened as Bane carried on about the green energy project and all its inherent flaws. But his voice was so low and melodic, that Nightwing found his eyelids drooping quickly.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt relaxed, if only a little. He perked up and dragged his beanie back on.

 

“I should go,” he said, interrupting Bane midsentence. He added on weakly, “seems like you have a lot of work to do.”

 

Bane blinked slowly, unimpressed but still not offended. “Come again if you like.”

 

“Yeah.” Nightwing pulled his goggles and hood on, then climbed down to return the thermos. He must be exhausted if he was honestly almost asleep here of all places. He gave Bane a two fingered salute before he dashed out, intent on making it back to his space before his muscles could tense up again.

 

Maybe he’d even sleep the whole night.


End file.
